


Knight Errant

by Richard_cypher



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Force Ghost Qui-gon unfucks the Timeline, Jedi purge, OC characters, Order 66, ROTS-AU, lots of feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Richard_cypher/pseuds/Richard_cypher
Summary: Qui-gon's ghost comes to Anakin as he deliberates his allegiance and makes him see reason. Departure delayed, Anakin stands shoulder to shoulder with his brothers and sisters during the sacking of the Temple.Even the smallest changes can make a world of difference.





	1. Dark Epiphanies

**_“Stay here.”_ **

The words echoed in his mind, again and again. A never ending barrage, those two syllables repeated themselves in tune with his racing heart. Like the beats of a drum they pounded against his skull, drowning every thought from his mind but that of desperate need. Two seemingly insignificant words that held the lives of his Angel and their unborn child in the balance.

Anakin Skywalker stood in front of one of the large transparisteel windows that surrounded the High Council chambers. Shoulders stiff and arms crossed, he looked out blankly onto bustle of Coruscant. _I should be with them,_ the thought bubbled from the cacophony of noise in his ears. _They’re not strong enough to take him on their own…_

**_“Stay here.”_ **

In an instant, hot anger flooded into him and he slammed his flesh fist against the transparisteel. Unrelieved, he slammed it a second time. And then a third. _It’s so unfair!_ He howled internally, his upper body collapsing against the window.

_Master Windu told me to stay here until he and the other members of the Council returned. But I am the Chosen one! Sithing hells! They have shoved that kriffing prophecy down my throat from the moment I set foot in the Temple! But now that they actually need me, now that I can ensure the Chancellor is arrested and brought justice for his crimes, they leave me behind?_

Furious he pushed himself off of the window and collapsed into one of the nearest plush red chairs that surrounded the Council chambers and ran a gloved hand through his hair desperately.

 ** _“Stay here,”_** the command repeated itself.

  _But I need the Chancellor! He’s the only one who knows how to save Padmé from dying. I have to –_

**_“Stay here.”_ **

_What’s the point in listening to Windu?_ he reasoned with himself.

Mace Windu had disliked him from day one. What was he doing sitting in this chair while the chances of saving his wife slipped away by the second? Because the man had finally acknowledged him as not being a _complete_ disgrace to the Order? He was a fool himself if he thought Windu trusted him. The entire Council didn’t trust him. They never had.

 _“You are on this Council, but we do not grant you the rank of Master.”_ Those words burn like fire in his veins, enraging him. _I deserve it more than any of them!!! They sit in this room and do nothing while the Order rots from the inside! While the entire Republic dissolves into chaos!_

**_“Stay here.”_ **

_Kriff Windu. Kriff the Council. Kriff the entire kriffing Jedi Order!_ he raged.

The dream that had plagued him for the last week reared its ugly head. Padmé looked up at him, so pale and weak, screaming in pain. Calling out for him…

**_“Stay here.”_ **

He couldn’t live without her. He wouldn’t.

So why was he still sitting here?

“I have to save her!” he raged to the empty room. “It’s not fair! I should be there!”

Frustrated, Anakin pushed himself out of the chair and began to pace the room. He glanced at the chrono on his wrist gauntlet.

**_“Stay here.”_ **

Factoring in evening traffic, they would have just arrived at the Chancellor’s office. If he left now, he might be able to make it in time. He could keep them from killing the Chancellor, have the man arrested and force him to tell him to save Padmé. He turned to pace in the other direction.

**_“Stay here.”_ **

_No!_ he reasoned with himself, confused. “ _I have to keep the Chancellor from killing them! So that I can arrest him and force him to tell me how to save her._ He stopped in front of the large glass windows facing the Senate Building, watching the busy skyline.

 _Yes. That’s what I have to do,_ he decided. _Keep them from killing the Chanc- keep him from killing them._

**_“Stay here.”_ **

He was marching to the large wooden doors that led to the antechamber when he felt it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and a presence vibrated in the Force. His back stiffened. He was not alone. His hand tightened around the knob.

“You should take Master Windu’s advice,” the eerie, but familiar voice intoned stoically behind him.

Anakin whipped around to face the intruder.

Standing in the center of the large circular chamber was Qui-Gon Jinn. Or the ghostly presence that resembled the man. Bathed in blue, like a perfectly clear hologram, Qui-Gon stood just how Anakin remembered him. Back straight, chin out, arms hidden in his sleeves. Even though they were of near equal height now, the older man still managed to look down the bridge of his crooked nose at him.

It took a moment for Anakin’s shocked mind to catch up with him. “How- how is this possible? He had to fight the urge to run a hand through the mirage of his old mentor. “I saw you burn on a pyre.”

Qui-Gon (or the figment of his imagination – Anakin wasn’t ready to leave out the possibility that he’d finally cracked) gave him a sad smile. “When I died on Naboo, I discovered a way to keep certain aspects of myself from becoming one with the Force. I can see and interact with you here in your world, but I am of it no longer.”

Anakin leaned his back against the closed doors and slid down until he was on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees. “I didn’t think such a thing was possible,” he said in awe.

Qui-Gon’s ghost moved closer. “A great many things are possible with the Force,” he said gently.

Hope blossomed in Anakin’s chest and he looked up at the older man with wet, desperate eyes. “Do you know? How to keep her from dying? I’ll do anything. Please, Master Qui-Gon-“ his voice cracked with emotion and he let out a wet sob. “I’ll do anything. _Please_ … I can’t live without her.”

The Force ghost knelt down in front of him and placed his hand on Anakin’s knee, but he didn’t feel it. He sniffled. “Palpatine is lying to you, young one,” Qui-Gon replied gently. “There is no way to cheat death.”

Not for the first time that night, Anakin’s world crashed down around him. He buried his face in his hands and let out a strangled cry. “No! Palpatine is my friend. He wouldn’t lie to me. He wants to help!”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Is that what you think?”

“Yes!” Anakin snapped angrily. The krayt dragon wrapped around his heart reared its head once again. “The Chancellor has been a better mentor that any of the Jedi! The Council doesn’t trust me. Half the Order looks down at me. All they’ve ever cared about is the stupid prophecy. That’s I’ve ever been to anyone,” he added bitterly. “Even Obi-wan. He’s always been so obsessed with kriffing Code! I could have saved my mother if he had just let me- just listened to me. But all he did was brush me off! Obi-wan was never there when I needed him– he didn’t even want to train me! He only took me on because you told him too. The Chancellor is the only one who has ever been there for me.”

“You don’t find it the least bit curious?” Qui-Gon asked, quietly. Anakin glared up at him with a mix of anger and confusion. “Doesn’t it seem strange that the newly minted Chancellor of the Galactic Republic took such an interest in a nine-year-old boy? He’d been on Coruscant for years before I brought you here. But in all that time, he never showed the least bit of interest in mentoring padawan learners. Or any other child for that matter. Tell me, Anakin. When did he begin to take an interest in you?”

The older man stroked his beard and waited for an answer. “After the celebration on Naboo,” Anakin whispered hoarsely.

“After you blew up the droid control ship,” Qui-Gon corrected. “Before that he never noticed you, did he? Not until he saw your potential… He’s using you, Anakin,” he finished bluntly. Anakin flinched at the realization. “He’s been using you from the moment you stepped out of that Starfighter. Grooming you to fit his purposes. Everything he’s said to you has been a lie to gain your trust.”

Anakin’s stomach roiled and struggled to keep the bile in his throat down. “He wouldn’t,” he replied weakly. “He’s my friend. He-“

“Search your feelings,” Qui-Gon urged. “You know it to be true.”

His anger fell out from underneath him, leaving him empty of everything but the painful realization. Everything he had confided in the man all of these years, all of the advice he’d received washed over him. He shivered.

Unable to hold it any longer, Anakin rolled onto his hands and knees and vomited on the tile. Qui-Gon continued to kneel beside him, the only comfort he could give.

_Good, Anakin! Good… Kill him… Kill him now. DO IT!_

_I’m surprised they haven’t knighted you yet. After your heroism on Ansion… I guess Master Kenobi just isn’t ready to let you go. Ironic isn’t it?_

_I can imagine your frustration. Placing you in those classes with the younglings is an insult to your intelligence and frankly insensitive. Have they no one to spare to catch you up on lessons privately?_

_You did well Anakin. He was too dangerous to be kept alive._

_There’s nothing to be ashamed of, my young friend_. _They tortured and killed your mother. It’s only natural that you would seek revenge. As I understand it, the Sand People have done nothing but reave and rape since they first appeared on Tatooine. You’ve done the Galaxy a favor wiping them out._

After what felt like an eternity, Anakin sat up on his knees and dragged a shaky hand across his mouth. His shoulders sagged.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “I don’t care what happens to me. I have to save her.”

“How would Padmé feel if she knew you had turned to the dark side and betrayed everything you’ve ever upheld, just to save her? You don’t even know that it will do anything. In all likelihood, Palpatine is behind the dreams that plague you. To force you to play your cards-“

“You don’t understand, Master. I love her.”

Qui-Gon scowled. “Don’t understand? I understand more than you think, young one. I was in love once. She died in my arms. I could have killed the man responsible - believe me I wanted to – but I knew it was a dishonor to her memory. She wouldn’t have wanted to see me a murderer.” His voice softened. “Even if what you saw was a true vision, you have no way of telling how it will come to pass. You must be mindful of the future, Anakin. For all that you know, trying to save her by bowing to the Sith could be the very thing that kills her.”

“Then what can I do?”

Qui-Gon’s image wavered before him. “I cannot tell you. That, you need to figure out for yourself.”

Anakin stared up at the Force ghost beseechingly. “Please, Master,” he begged. “Just tell me what to do-“

“There are rules, coming to you from beyond the veil, Anakin. Rules that cannot be broken.” His image wavered again. “I’m afraid my time here is at an end. Trust me, Anakin. Don’t go to Palpatine.”

“But-“

“You must trust in the Force. Your place is here.”

With that, the ghost of Qui-Gon dissolved into thin air. But his voice remained.

           

 

 

 

 

In a soft whisper, nearly inaudible, Anakin heard the words: _ward right and guard your heart from the darkness._

* * *

 

Palpatine scowled at the self-righteous, bald Jedi in front of him.

He had prolonged this duel as much as he could, toying with Windu and refraining from inflicting any real damage to the man. In any other circumstance, Sidious might have applauded the man for his expertise in Vapaad. But not now that all of his carefully laid plans were in jeopardy.

The boy hadn’t come.

The years he had spent training the boy, listening to his whiny, teenage dribble. Carefully planting the seeds of his fall that would take years to come to fruition. Every detail meticulously planned and executed. All of those rumors among the Jedi about Skywalker being the _Chosen One_ (he mentally spat in disgust – Foolish Jedi and their prophecies. The future must grabbed and molded into what you want, not passively waited upon!). The death of Shmi Skywalker. Turning the boy against his Master. All done to ostracize him from the Jedi. And playing on Skywalker’s fear of losing his wife? That had been the linchpin.

Windu sprung back into the duel. Palpatine knocked him aside with ease.

His Master might have been able to manipulate Midichlorians to create life, but he found that simple solutions were often the best. _Plagueis always had a flare for the dramatic_ , he thought. All he had had to do was have her birth-control pills swapped with placebos…

He had been prepared for it to take months of switching meds for her to become pregnant. But he thought it would be worth it. At best, a child would make Skywalker fall harder – and an excellent hostage to keep the man in line. At worst, an insurance policy just in case he lost his grasp on Skywalker. He almost laughed to himself. Oh, his dark joy when the whore had stepped into his office to blather about peace negotiations and he had felt it. Two tiny bundles of life, ripe with Force potential. Two! And only a month after his deception! Skywalker was more virile than he had anticipated.

Forcing back yet another attack, Windu retreated to catch his breath. “You’ve lost, Sidious,” he wheezed, a sparkle of understanding in his eyes. “He’s not coming.”

“Fool Jedi!” Palpatine spat. The gall of this man, to throw his failures in his face. “I may have lost Skywalker, but it is you who has lost!”

Done with the charade in front of him, Palpatine whipped out his hands and pushed the Jedi out the nearby window and into traffic. The look on Windu’s face as he fell was a delicious sight he’ remember for years to come.

The threat removed, because even Windu - the Corellian cockroach that he was - couldn’t have survived that fall, Palpatine stepped closer to the window and nudged the purple lightsaber over the edge.

He pulled his comlink out of his robes and lifted it to his mouth. “Execute Order 66.”

If he couldn’t have Skywalker, no one would.

 

 

 

 


	2. Battle of the Temple (Part 1)

Anakin sat on the floor in utter defeat for what felt like an eternity, lost in a vision of his wife and the life they could have had, when he felt it. A low, menacing rumble beneath him that pulled him out of his misery and set him on edge. He lifted his head and rubbed his puffy eyes on the sleeve of his robes, seeking out where the noise had come from.

The floor rumbled underneath him again, more distinctly this time. An icy shiver ran down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something terrible was happening, he decided after a moment. What he could only describe as _wrongness_ echoed in the Force.

Shakily, and with much trepidation, he peeled himself off the floor and slowly walked to the transparisteel windows to get a better view of what was going on. The wrongness intensified exponentially in his mind the closer he came, like a malodorous Rylothian carrion flower blooming in the darkness. He shuffled closer, eyes closed and filled with dread until he felt the toe of his boot scoot against the wall. With a deep breath, he opened his eyes and peered down the transparisteel at the base of the Temple..

What he saw below him left him paralyzed with fear and surprise. Rows and rows of Troopers in their gleaming white armor marching towards the Temple. _On the Temple_ , his mind corrected. It was in that terrible moment that he finally understood. _This has been Palpatine’s plan all along,_ he reasoned to himself in shock as he watched in horror. The entire war had been a sham. A great deception to destroy the Jedi Order once and for all. And he had bought into it. _A stupid little boy desperate for attention._

 _I have to do something_ , he thought numbly, watching them march closer. _I have to fix this._ But the rising horror of what he knew was about to happen left him unable to move. There were not nearly enough Jedi in the Temple to repel a force that large, and no one close enough to come to their aid. This was going to be a slaughter.

The floor rumbled again ominously, kicking his mind into gear.

The ornate wooden doors of the Council Chambers smashed open as Anakin dashed through them at full speed. He ran past the empty benches towards lift at the far end of the antechamber, and slapped slapping his metal hand on the control panel repeatedly.

Nothing happened.

 _Kriff_.

He leaned his ear against the metal doors, listening desperately for the hum of the repulsorlifts, but the only sound he could make out was the frantic beating of his heart in his chest. . _Double Kriff._ The lifts weren’t working.

Anakin’s stomach sank. He’d have to take the emergency stairs all the way down. There was no way he’d be able to warn them in time.

 **_Emergency safety protocols,_ ** he repeated to himself, remembering the decade-old emergency protocol lectures he’d endured as a padawan.

**_In case of an explosion, all Temple lifts will shut off. In most parts of the Temple, this obstruction can be easily avoided by the use of the grand staircase. In other sections of the building, where the grand staircase is either too distant or unreachable, a series of emergency stairwells are available for evacuation…_ **

He scrambled back into the Council chamber and dropped onto his hands and knees in the center of the room, searching desperately.

**_…If you are in the high spire at the time of the explosion there is a trapdoor entrance to the emergency spire emergency staircase located in the center of the Council room that will go as far down as the entrance hall. In the center of the room, inlaid in the tile pattern, there is a small button-_ **

“Found it!” Anakin said to himself, as he snagged the catch in the tile with a fingernail. He traced his fingers around the crack in the tile until he found the minuscule button that controlled the hatch. Jamming his metallic finger on in, he dropped down into the stairwell as soon as the hatch opened far enough for him to squeeze through

Not quite deep enough in the floor for him to stand straight, the emergency stairwell spiraled down in front of him, disappearing into the dim emergency lighting.

He barreled down the staircase as fast as his legs would take him. He hadn’t made half a dozen rotations down when he felt the first death below him. Not two steps later, he felt two more. He pushed himself to go faster.

The Force shuddered around him, death and terror and pain leaking through his mental shields. The feeling only intensified as he descended further down into the Temple. Narrow doors started to blur past him with more and more frequency until he slammed into the door at the end of the stairwell.

Gasping for breath, he forced the door open and slid through.

And descended into chaos, lightsaber in hand.

He recognized the armor right away, to his abject horror - the blue and white of the 501st. _Of all the Clones stationed on Coruscant after the Separatist attack,_ he thought painfully, _it had to be my men._ The betrayal stung.

Stuffing down his emotions and the nagging feelings of self blame, Anakin ignited his saber and dived into the fight. He immediately began deflecting bolts, scouring the battle before him for whoever was leading the defense, but there was too much chaos around him to discern anything meaningful..

The Force sang in his ear, despite the death and chaos around him and he suddenly knew what needed to be done. _The Temple is going to fall_ , it whispered. _There is no stopping it. The Order is going to fall - here is your path._ He knew without a doubt it was right. They didn’t stand a chance against a force this large. The very best they could was protect their future. Protect the younglings.

He spotted a small group of Padawans being pushed back into a corner to his left. Two humans, one of each gender, and a pink-skinned female Twi’lek. None of them over the age of 16, and all of them terrified out of their wits. A plan unfolded in his mind.

He vaulted over the squad of troopers between them, managing to slice the arms off of two of them as he went past before landing gracefully in front of the Padawans. He made quick work of the other six, caught off guard as they were, stomping out any emotion that sprouted from killing his own men. There would be time for that after they got out of this mess. Hopefully.

He turned off his lightsaber and hauled the three of them behind a nearby statue.“What are your names?” he shouted.

“Hankor Reed, Master Skywalker,” the dark-haired human boy said immediately.

“And you two?”

The girls shared a worried glance before responding. “Mira Solaris,” and “Ofaw’tani Echosdeso,” the two girls said together, quick;y.

He nodded, reassuringly. “Hankor, Mira and Ofaw-tani,” he memorized. “I have a special mission for you,” he said, placing his hands firmly on Mira’s shoulders (she looked to be the oldest). “The Temple is lost,” he told them bluntly. Mira’s lip wavered and her blue eyes watered up. “I’m not telling you this to scare you. I’m telling you so you know how important this is, alright?” The teens nodded shakily.

“Get to the crèche. Grab a few of the younger Padawans on your way. Grab as many younglings as you can and get the hell out of here. We will keep the clones occupied for as long as we can.”

“But where will we go?” Hankor asked incredulously.

“Grab as many younglings as you can. If there’s any crèche Master’s down there, you tell them Master Skywalker said come up here and help hold the line. Take the younglings to the statue of Bala Nisi – it’s right outside of the crèche. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“I do,” Ofaw’tani said quickly, her lekku bobbing.

Anakin nodded. “Good. Behind the statue there is a small hatch. Open it. There’s a secret passage that will lead you out of the Temple to the lower levels.” He took a deep breath.  “Head straight for the Republica apartments just west of the Senate building. It’s a tall, fancy building with a curved top. You can’t miss it. Go to apartment 500. Senator Amidala will help you.”

“Senator Amidala? What if she doesn’t help us?” Mira asked worriedly. “What if we -”

Anakin gave hera weak, reassuring smile. “Senator Amidala is my wife.” The three pairs of young eyes widened in surprise, but Anakin ignored it. “She’ll know what to do. Tell her, I said to get off this rock. I’ll rendezvous with her when the battle is over. Alright?”

“How will she know where to find you?” Ofaw’tani asked quickly.

“She’ll know where to go,” he rushed and jabbed his finger on her chest.  “You make sure she gets out of here, do you hear me?” They nodded. “Good. Now go. And don’t be seen!”

He watched them run off through an empty hallway with a sigh of relief. They would get Padme and the baby far from here. Far from Palpatine. _Now all I need to do is get myself out of here..._

“TO ME!” He shouted, reigniting his saber and jumping back into battle. “EVERYONE TO ME! FORM A LINE!”

* * *

 

Obi-wan Kenobi threw the blaster off the side of the platform with disgust. “So uncivilized,” he said to himself in his clipped Coruscanti accent.

Wiping his hands on his leggings, he stepped over the smoking carcass of General Grievous and back towards the catwalk. _Finally_ , he thought to himself with relief. _With Dooku and Grievous dead, we can finally put an end to this horrid war_.

He retraced his steps towards the sound of battle. The clones had attacked the hanger bay right on schedule, it would seem. _Excellent_ . He reached for his lightsaber and groaned, remembering that Grievous had kicked it over a platform. _Blast! Anakin will never let me live this down…_

He turned a corner and saw Commander Cody hiding behind a nearby stack of supply boxes waiting for him.

“Ah General,” Cody said, coming to attention. “There you are!”

“Didn’t want to miss all the fun,” he replied sarcastically, ducking down next to him.

“General Grievous?” Cody asked.

Obi-wan frowned. “Dead.” He always hated killing, no matter how necessary it was. “How goes it here?”

Cody grunted. “As well as can be expected.” He pulled something off of his belt and handed it over. “You dropped this.”

Obi-wan looked down in confusion, and let out a sigh of relief. His lightsaber. “Excellent work, Cody. Thank you.” He risked a glance around their makeshift cover, to check the progress.

“Not a word to Anakin, Cody,” he said as an afterthought. “He’ll never let me live it down.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.” Passing the saber to his dominant hand, and gripping it tightly. “Let’s get a move on. We’ve got a battle to win here,” he added cheekily.

Taking a deep breath and gathering the Force in around him, Obi-wan ignited his saber and ran off towards the thick of battle.

_Now if I could only remember where I left that Boga._

* * *

 

Cody hunkered down by a fallen spider droid to answer his beeping comlink. He tapped the wrist comm with the butt of his blaster.

“Commander Cody,” Chancellor Palpatine drawled over the line. “The time has come. Execute Order 66.”

* * *

 

_Parry. Parry. Step. Duck. Parry. Remise. Step. Slice._

Everything was numb. From the prolonged vibration of his saber climbing up his arms. From the exhaustion and repetition of fighting. From all of the death around him. From the betrayal of seeing his own men turn on them. From the howl of indescribable pain and loss in the Force that threatened to overwhelm him.

Anakin continued to reflect the endless barrage of blaster bolts, determined to keep their line from breaking. _Again_. Jedi and clones died all around him without end.

As soon as he’d sent the Padawans to the crèche, he’d gone into “General” mode, barking orders at the few Jedi left to defend the Temple. But their hastily formed line had broken in minutes and they’d been forced further back into building. Then they had reformed in a last ditch effort to defend the crèche. But the number of clones pouring into the Temple was just too great. They’d been plowed right into and split them down the middle.

Which was where Anakin found himself now. On the opposite side of where he needed to be.

From where he was standing, he could just see over the battle to the opposite line defending the route to the crèche. He could only hope that the Padawans he had sent had managed to get the younglings out. _I should have sent a Master with them_ , he regretted. _If that line breaks, they won’t be able to defend themselves. Won’t be able to defend Padme._

The young Padawan next to him fell, her death bleeding into the torrent around them. _Neema Tharis,_ he noted, adding it to his tally. As if he’d ever get out of here to report their losses…

Shoving his emotions down before he could choke on them, he stepped over her filling her space. On the other side, Master Shaak Ti wordlessly adjusted as well. They continued to hold the line wordlessly, but he could feel them tiring. His own arms ached at the endless movement.

A blaster bolt pierced through his other thigh from behind. He stumbled forward, losing his balance temporarily. “KARKING SON OF A BANTHA!” He shouted through the pain, turning to see where the shot had come from.

Clones poured down the grand staircase, in an attempt to box them in. _Bastards,_ he thought viciously. _I taught them that maneuver._ They had to abandon this spot quickly before they were decimated. He glanced at the line defending the crèche, knowing if he abandoned this position they would be overwhelmed in short order.

“RETREAT!” he shouted over the din of battle, trying to control the emotion in his voice and stomp down the horrific knowledge of what he knew was about to happen here. What he was going to let happen. “EVERYONE RETREAT!”

He limped quickly into nearby hallway, leading his group out of the oncoming trap. He had a dozen people, he counted quickly as they ran. They would have to circle around, he reasoned. If they were quick, they could back up the crèche line and give the Padawans more time to escape.

* * *

 

Obi-wan held on tightly as the Boga sprinted up the wall towards the higher levels of the complex. It took everything in him to hold onto the reins and his lit saber at the same time. _I’m getting far too old for this._

He was gathering the Force around himself, trying to retain a grip on the exuberant creature when he felt it. A great disturbance in the Force, like nothing he had ever felt before. Cold, sticky darkness bleed through his connection to the Force like ink in water.

He had a bad feeling about this. The Boga continued to climb, and Obi-wan spurred it on with the heels of his boots to a breakneck pace. A very bad feeling.

Out of nowhere, the side of the sinkhole next to him exploded into a deadly mix of rock and shrapnel. He held on to the Boga for dear life, as it jumped out of the way in surprise. _What in the blazes!?_

He looked over his shoulder, searching for the source of the blast and nearly dropped his saber in surprise.

His men had re-aimed the cannons and were now firing on him.

He didn’t have more than a moment to contemplate what was going on, before he was falling.

  



	3. Battle of the Temple (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin makes a plan.

**Knight Errant**

**Chapter 3: Battle of the Temple (Part 2)**

Anakin nearly slipped in a puddle of blood as he stepped out of the service corridor and over the body of a fallen Jedi. His eyes glazed over the body as he stepped past, numbly. Who they were, he didn’t know. He couldn’t bear to keep track anymore.

The silence in the hall was deafening.

There was just so much death. The Force was choked with it; a dark somber cloud of feeling that clung to everything in its wake. Like a wet tunic you couldn’t peel off. He had felt it before, after battles lost, but that been non-Force sensitives. This…

It was complete and utter agony.

He sighed heavily at the weight of it and unconsciously scratched an itch on the back of his neck.

There had been over twenty Jedi with him when they had retreated to back up the line defending the crèche. But they had been bogged down by an endless barrage of troopers from the moment they left that hallway. Every time they had carved out a route back to the crèche, every time they attempted to stand their ground, they were overwhelmed. The entire group had been decimated. It was just him now. Him and a Padawan whose name he didn’t know.

 _And it was all for nothing,_ he thought bitterly. In the end the Clones had broken through anyway. All of those younglings… The Force had howled in pain at the loss. _I never should have called for the retreat,_ he lamented. _We should have held. Even if it had killed us._ _Please_ , he begged the Force. _Please let those Padawans have gotten some of the younglings out._

 _And Padmè._ Anakin knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t help but hope they’d gotten her of Coruscant. If Palpatine knew about the baby... His heart clenched painfully and he fought the urge to drop everything and go after her. But, perhaps for the first time in his life, he knew that he couldn’t. What he was about to do was too important.

The blue skinned Chiss boy stayed tight on his heels as they entered the open hallway, his saber in a death grip in his hands. Anakin looked warily in both directions before moving right. He led them down the hall, clinging to the shadows as much as possible. If they were caught out in the open again, it would be the end of them. A sharp pain shot up his thigh as a reminder of his weakening stamina.

“Master Skywalker,” he whispered frightfully. “Where are we going?”

Anakin stopped. He supposed he should tell the kid why they’d been traipsing through the guts of the Temples maintenance corridors for the last half hour. He turned to look at the boy. “What’s your name?” he asked gently.

“Nellth’osowu’ozza,” he replied. “But everyone calls-called me Nell...” he choked off.

Anakin looked at him sadly. “I’m going to get you out of here, Nell,” he said softly. “I promise you. But we need to go to the Archives,” he explained. “There’s a thousand years of Jedi knowledge in there. We can’t let that fall into enemy hands.”

Nell’s red eyes widened as he realized what Anakin was suggesting. “You’re going to wipe the Archives?” he whispered, somewhere between incredulous and scandalized. Anakin couldn’t blame him. It was a ballsy plan. And not a well thought out one. But he was pissed off and hurting and he didn’t care if revenge wasn’t the Jedi way. He wanted Palpatine pissed and hurting too. It was the perfect way to stick it to the bastard for a decade and a half of manipulation and the slaughter of over a hundred innocent children.

He clamped down on the particularly sharp pain that tore through him at that. _There will be time later for mourning,_ he told himself. _Right now I need to focus, so that I can get back Padmè._

He tried to muster up the signature Skywalker smirk for the boy, despite his exhaustion and scratched his neck again. “And then we’re going to steal the holocrons.”

* * *

 

Padmè Amidala stared out at billowing smoke escaping Jedi Temple from her private veranda with despair.

Something terrible was happening, she was sure of it. _Even after the Temple bombing there wasn’t this much smoke_ ... She wrapped her silk stole tighter around her shoulders to keep out the evening chill and leaned against the railing. _I’m so sick of being pregnant_ , she thought mindlessly as the pressure on her lower back eased. A glance over her shoulder and into the apartment found Dormè analyzing the latest holonet broadcasts for information on one of the couches.

Padmè returned her attention to the scene in front of her, worriedly. _Was there another Separatist attack?_ They’d never made it into the atmosphere last time. _But there was so much debris that fell down... They could have easily dropped droids for a later attack - like the battle for Kamino._

She frowned anxiously. Whatever it was, Anakin was almost certainly in the middle of it.

The baby flipped uncomfortably in her belly. She rubbed her stomach automatically in a soothing motion. _It’s okay, little one. Daddy will be okay._

If only she could convince herself of that.

She’d learned a lot of skills in the last five years, being married to a Jedi. She’d learned the art of subtle flirting (even if Anakin had not), of secret messages, and love-making in unexpected places. She’d perfected how to pretend not to be worried and she’d learned how to stay focused when she couldn’t. But the one thing she could never figure out was how to convince herself that her husband was alright. How many hours had she spent watching the holonet, desperate for just a glimpse of him to prove to herself that, just for the night, he was safe?

The door to the veranda slid open behind her, catching her by surprise.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Bail said gently, stepping out beside her. His casual set of grey tunics and woolen asymmetrical cape flapped in the cool breeze. He gazed out at the Coruscant skyline sadly. “It’s not safe for you... Especially now.” His gaze wandered to her pregnant middle. Even under her dark, structured Senatorial gown it had begun to stand out. Out of professional respect, he had never mentioned it or questioned her about the father. Not that he had really _needed_ to.

Padmè tore her gaze away from the billowing smoke and looked up at him, ignoring his acknowledgement of her condition. “What are you doing here?” she asked weakly.  “I thought you were headed back to Alderaan today?”

Bail let out a sigh and leaned against the rail, hands next to hers. “Captain Antilles is waiting for me on board the _Tantive IV_ ,” he assured her. “I want to ensure everything is alright before I head home. The Jedi have always been a great help to me and my people… And I’d like to think I’m good friends with a few of them. I would like to help out where I can.”

“I also wanted to check on you,” he said after a long moment, looking out towards the Temple.

She didn’t reply. Her stomach flipped nervously. They were dangerously close to discussing secrets she’d tried to keep hidden for the last five years. As close as the two of them were, keeping her marriage to Anakin a secret had been of the utmost importance. There would have been so much backlash for both of them if anyone had found out. _Would have been_ , she thought bleakly. She had a lingering worry that didn’t matter much anymore. Her heart constricted painfully. The baby kicked roughly against her ribs. _Please bring him back to me… I can’t do this without him._ Her bottom lip quivered, and she scolded herself. She was not going to cry. Especially in front of a coworker. She was not going to cry-

“Have you heard anything yet?” She ground out, forcing her voice steady. It didn’t work.

Bail’s hand slowly moved a hand across the railing to rest over hers. He gave it a gentle squeeze of support. “I’m sure Anakin will be alright,” he said delicately, avoiding the question.

She closed her eyes. “Please, just tell me,” she said tiredly. “It can’t be anything worse than my imagination.”

He frowned and squeezed her hand again. “I don’t know for sure,” he acquiesced slowly. “There are conflicting reports. But from the sounds of it… There was some sort of dispute with Chancellor Palpatine. The holonet - they’re calling it a coup, but I don’t believe it for a moment.” He sighed again. “Regardless… The GAR has been called in to ‘quell an uprising’ in the Temple.”

A dam of emotion broke inside her, and she couldn’t stop the sob that climbed up the back of her throat. She buried her face in his shoulder and cried. Warm arms enveloped her and rubbed her back, comfortingly. _Oh gods, Anakin. Please be okay._ “That’s - that’s impossible-” she stuttered against Bail’s dampening tunic. “The Jedi would never - that makes no sense.” The baby kicked against her liver. “Anakin…” she sobbed.

“He has gotten himself out of worse scrapes in the past,” Bail tried to reassure her.

_Please let him be alright. Please let him be alright. Please let him be alright. Gods, let him be alright. I need him to come back to me. I can’t do this without him. Please let him be alright._

Padmè tried to gain a grip on her spiralling emotions. What were those patterned breathing techniques she’d been reading about? _Inhale through the nose. Exhale through the mouth. Relax a different part of the body each time. Yes, Padmè,_ she told herself, rolling her shoulders. _Just like that. Just keep breathing._ She needed to be strong. Anakin would show up at this end of this like he always did, with that obnoxious cocky grin on his face. He would be fine. Everything would be fine. All she had to do was be ready to leave when he got here. She sniffled.

A plan started to form in her mind.

Good. She always did better when there was a plan…

If they were making a run for it, they would need credits, she reasoned. As many as possible and in different currencies. Some basic supplies would make things easier too. Food, plain clothing and some of her gowns - they could sell them for more credits if they needed to. Anakin might never forgive her if she left behind 3PO. And a few of her most cherished sentimental things. A small ivory statuette of the goddess of safety her mother had given her when she’d been elected queen, her japor necklace, the photo of their wedding in her bedside table, Anakin padawan braid. They would need some of the baby’s things as well. There was no telling how long they’d be on the move.

Padmè’s heart clenched with fear and she let out another sob. It wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go. She was supposed to have the baby on Naboo. She’d tell her parents about her pregnancy. Anakin would join her at Varykino when it was time, and they would set up the nursery in one of the north facing rooms. The ones so close to the lake you could feel the moist breeze coming off of it in the evenings.

But then Anakin had had those horrible nightmares. And now this. She was going to end up giving birth in some dingy medcenter in some unknown corner of the galaxy…

Embarrassed, she took a deep breath and pulled away. “I’m sorry,” she said, steadying her voice. “It’s been a long day.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bail said kindly. “I’m glad I could-”

A loud _BANG BANG BANG_ echoed in from inside the apartment.

* * *

 

They traveled through a myriad of hallways and service corridors, clinging to shadows as much as possible to avoid detection. Thankfully the Clones had switched to patrol mode, moving in significantly smaller groups. What patrols they weren’t able to sneak past, they managed to take care of quickly and quietly.

Anakin came to an abrupt stop where the hall they were in intersected the entrance to the Archives. Nell barely avoided colliding into his back and hovered behind him nervously.

He moved his head slowly out until he could see around the corner, scratching the back of his neck again harshly.

He cursed internally at what he saw. Two dozen clones patrolled the grand entrance. He recognized the designs on Ridge and Appo’s helmets immediately among the group. He forced himself to forget it was the 501st he was fighting. That was another level of searing pain that he could not begin to handle. _They’ve shown their hand,_ he reasoned with himself. _Now I need to play mine…_

The two of them together could take them out, he predicted recklessly. Nell wasn’t half bad with a saber. If they stuck together that is. The Clones would try to separate them and pick them off individually. It was a maneuver Anakin had done with them a thousand times over. But if they stayed close together and pressed an attack, they could slice right down the center and take them out.

A flicker of movement from above caught his attention. He scowled.

On the balcony above where another dozen troopers. _Why are there so many damned clones here?_ He wondered in frustration.

He slowly withdrew until he was out of sight again and silently gestured at Nell to follow him back down the hallway.

“Time for plan D,” he muttered to himself darkly when they had retreated far enough not to be overheard.

After a moment of searching, he found a dull grey ventilation panel in the wall behind a broken fountain. _That will do perfectly._

He made quick work of unscrewing the panel from the wall with the Force and leaned it up against the wall silently, before gesturing Nell into it.

The boy looked at him questioningly, but climbed up and squeezed in before disappearing. Anakin braced his hands and good leg on the sides of the panel before pulling himself in. He let out a small grunt when his blaster wound grazed the edge, but managed to make it in without his leg trying to give out again. A simple manipulation of the Force reattached the panel to the wall. He scratched the back of his neck again. The itch was getting worse.

Nell was waiting for him a few feet away at an intersection in the ducting. Anakin stepped past him, leading them quickly through the oversized ventilation shafts from memory. He had made this trek to the holocron vault with Obi-wan several years ago chasing after Cad Bane. He’d never thought he would actually be grateful for the slimy bounty hunter. His heart clenched at the thought of Obi-wan.

He had no way of knowing whether the Temple attack was an isolated attacked or a part of something much worse - _please let it just be the Temple!_ \- but he could only hope his master was alright. He couldn’t imagine a galaxy without Obi-wan dry humor and all encompassing…

He floundered for a way to describe it. He’d been so jealous of his master growing up. Always so calm and in control of his emotions, but so very generous and kind and supportive.

He could use that support right about now. _Focus!_ He admonished himself, shoving the grief back down. _Focus on the mission._

They walked in silence, both of them lost in their own private pain.

At the next intersection, they shimmied up to the next floor before continuing on. After a few hundred feet, just as he had though, a sloped opening appeared below them that when back down to the main level of the Archives. They slid down delicately, so as not to make a sound.

Anakin breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the door locked by a high security keypad lock. He scratched the back of his neck again in frustration. It just would not go away.

After a few tense minutes of messing with wires (and consciously ignoring the itch on the back of his neck), he managed to short the keypad. It would set off an alarm in the Council Chamber console, but hopefully it would take someone a while to figure out what it meant. Hopefully.

The door hissed open quietly, revealing the glittering holocron room beyond.

It was a smaller room than he’d thought it would be, Anakin realized as he stepped down. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it before. It wasn’t much bigger than his quarters on the _Resolute_. The entire room was lined in seamless polished durasteel.Two thin shelves sat in the center of the room, ladened with glittering holocrons of various shapes, sizes, and materials. It cast the room in a soft blue glow.

A glance behind him found Nell frozen in place, red eyes bright and awestruck. “Find something to carry all of these with,” he said quietly, snapping the boy back to attention.

“Yes, Master.” The boy stumbled out of the ventilation shaft and started digging through the cabinets inset in the walls.

He immediately went to the control panel to his right and typed in Obi-wan’s most recent clearance code. _Thank the stars he always forgets to cover the keypad when he types!_

As far as he knew, this was the only terminal in the entire temple connected directly to the archival memory. He could hear the quiet hum of the hard drives running from inside the wall. It had been one of the first concerns when Bane had broken in. The Council had ordered a thorough review of the terminal’s activity to make sure the bounty hunter hadn’t tampered or deleted anything.

A glance behind him confirmed that Nell had found a worn satchel in one of the drawers and was starting to gently clear the shelves. They fell into the bag with delicate clinking noises. He turned back to the control panel.

It was then that the itch on the back of his neck turned into an icy cold burn. _What in the blazes-_

His eyes bulged. _Kriff. Double Kriff. Triple Kriff._

The Force had been so clouded and tumultuous, he’d mistaken a dire warning for an itch. A rookie mistake. But now he knew.

Palpatine was here.

* * *

 

“We're going to have to speed this up, kid,” Anakin snapped, trying to control the panic in his voice. “We're about to have company!”

Nell eyes bulged in surprise and he nearly dropped the satchel of holocrons he was holding. “What?!” he sputtered in terror. “How'd the troopers know we're in here?”

“It's not the troopers I'm worried about,” he muttered to himself, scanning quickly through the archival system protocols. “Stuff as many holocrons in that bag as you can and as soon as I'm done we're leaving.”

“Yes, Master.” Nell took a deep calming breath and went to work, grabbing holocrons by the fistful and stuffing them in the bag with shaky hands.

Anakin typed furiously at the control panel, writing hard wipe instructions into the system. The cold feeling of the dark side increased with every breath.

He wished Artoo was here with him.

After an agonizing eternity of typing and code writing (or was it only a few minutes?), he slammed the enter button to begin the wipe. The drives, just inside the wall whirred with activity.

He watched the terminal count down, somberly. All that knowledge, gone in a moment.

**_00110011 00110101 00100101 00100000 01100100 01100101 01101100 01100101 01110100 01100101 01100100 /// -35% deleted_ **

He almost wished he hadn’t had a hand in it.

**_00110110 00110000 00100101 00100000 01100100 01100101 01101100 01100101 01110100 01100101 01100100 /// -60% deleted_ **

The cold feeling persisted.

_Come on. Come on, come on, come on. Can’t this thing go any faster._

**_00111000 00111000 00100101 00100000 01100100 01100101 01101100 01100101 01110100 01100101 01100100 /// -88% deleted_ **

From behind him, he heard Nell give out a shivery breath.

The terminal beeped unceremoniously.

**_01110111 01101001 01110000 01100101 00100000 01110011 01110101 01100011 01100011 01100101 01110011 01110011 01100110 01110101 01101100 /// -Wipe successful_ **

Anakin sighed with relief and double checked the memory. Satisfied, he speedily wound his way back through the protocols until he found the blinking line of text he was looking for:

**_/// -A D D   N E W V I D E O   F E E D_ **

He selected it with a scowl. A red light at the top of the terminal screen signaled the beginning of the recording. He glared at it. “I’m done with being your plaything... You and I will meet again, Palpatine. And when we do, I will kill you for what you’ve done here-” he growled.

“Master,” Nell spoke up tentatively, unaware that he was recording. “What about these red ones? I- I think they might be _Sith_ holocrons,” he added with a touch of wariness.

Anakin smirked vindictively into the camera. “Definitely grab the red ones.”

**_/// -E N D   R E C O R D I N G_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These cliffhangers are stressing me out, and I know what happens next!


	4. There is no death, there is the Force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not usually a fan of suggesting musical accompaniment... But I highly suggest listening to "The Night King," by Ramin Djawadi. It was a major inspiration for this chapter and the two fit sooo well together.

**Knight Errant**

**Chapter 4: There is No Death, There is the Force**

 

A loud _BANG BANG BANG_ echoed in from inside the apartment.

Padmè and Bail turned towards the noise in surprise. On the other side of the transparisteel, Captain Typho stepped towards the front door warily, hand resting on the blaster at his belt.

Bail frowned worriedly. “Move,” he said quietly, hands suddenly on her shoulders.

“What? Bail-” she blustered uselessly as he gently pushing her towards the far side of the balcony until her back was against the exterior wall. The baby kicked several times in succession, but she ignored it. She strained her ears to hear what was going on.

Once Bail was assured they were out of sight, he drew a blaster out from underneath his cloak. Holding her back and out of view, he leaned forward and peered through the transparisteel.

Someone banged on the door again, this time with more urgency. Bail’s grip on his blaster tightened. If there was a squad of Clone troopers on the other side of that door, there wasn’t much he was going to be able to do to protect his friend. He was decent with a blaster, but not good enough to take on entire squad. Even with Captain Typho’s help. But he refused to stand by while a pregnant woman was shot down just because the father was a Jedi.

That was not the official line, of course. _Quelling an uprising,_ they had called it. But he was no fool. There was no one in the Jedi Temple these days but Jedi too old to be in the field, and younglings too young to go to war. He hadn’t said anything to Padmè, but he knew what this was: a genocide.

The only thing he didn’t know was _why_.

Inside, Captain Typho opened the door with a quiet hiss, blaster raised and ready to shoot… And immediately dropped his blaster arm. He shoved his blaster back in it’s holster before quickly gesturing someone inside.

Bail’s jaws dropped and his eyes widened in an incredulous expression.

“Oh my!” C-3PO gasped dramatically from inside.

Padmè craned her neck, but couldn’t see anything. “Who is it?” He didn’t reply, but relaxed his hold on her.

“Milady…” Captain Typho called from inside the apartment as she stepped around Bail and back into view.

Padmè’s heart leapt in surprise as she watched a group of Jedi younglings shuffle in through the door. Two young padawans, braids hanging behind their right ears, entered at the rear, herding them onto the plush carpets.

Typho stuck his head out the doorway to ensure no one had seen the group, before slamming the locking mechanism.

All of their robes were torn, dirty and covered in grime and she could see the still wet tear tracks on the cheeks of the younger children. Neither of the padawans (both human; one male and one female) looked a day over 16 standard, she speculated as they huddled in the entryway. And as far as the quivering children trailing behind them… a variety of ages and species, but everyone of them terrified. The baby squirmed.

Padmè reentered the apartment hastily, rubbing the top of her stomach. Bail followed quietly behind her.

The female padawan, a dark skinned girl with an oval shaped face and a field of freckles smattering her cheeks stepped forward, the youngest of the younglings sitting on her hip. Her eyes widened in surprise, focused on Padmè’s midsection as she walked over to them. The pale ginger haired boy stayed behind with the others, watching Captain Typho warily.

“Senator Amidala,” she said quietly, giving Padmè a clumsy bow as she balanced the small Togruta girl on her hip. Her eyes flicked back up to the older womans face. She took a deep, calming breath before speaking. “Master Skywalker said - he said you can help us.”

She could see the struggle in the girl's face to maintain her composure.

“The Temple... They just marched in… And… We have nowhere else to go,” she finished with desperation.

A terrible feeling blossomed inside of her. “What is your name?” she said gently, walking over to her and placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders. She squeezed them to keep her hands from shaking.

“Mira,” the girl replied quietly.

“We will get you somewhere safe. I promise. I just...”

She hesitated. She didn’t want to ask… Didn’t want to _know_ . She wanted to stay in this moment for as long as she could, no matter how terrible it was. Because in this moment Anakin could be alive. If she asked and... _Please let him be alright. Please,_ she prayed silently. “Do you know what happened to him?” she asked heavily and waited for her world to end.

“Master Skywalker?” Mira’s eyes flickered down to her pregnant belly before returning to her face. “I- I don't know... He sent me and a few others off to save as many younglings as we could and come to you. Everything was so chaotic - I don’t know him after that.”

The boy standing with the younglings spoke up, stepping forward hesitantly. “He was part of the Temple defense,” he said quietly. “I heard him taking command before my Master ordered me to go with Mira and Hankor. He was leading the charge to protect the crechè...”

Her heart dropped into her stomach as the words sank in. _Leading the charge._

“What happened to the crechè?” Bail asked quietly, from behind her.

Neither Mira or the boy answered, both sets of eyes lowering to stare at the ground despondently.

That was all of the response Padmè needed. She let out a loud sob and buried her face in her hands. Anakin was always where the battle was thickest. If the crechè had fallen, then…

Her world collapsed. Anakin was gone. He had to be. He never would have stood by and allowed such a tragedy to happen.

Her Anakin was _gone_. She’d never see him again. His blond curls, that cheeky grin, his overwhelming desire to help people. The way he beamed under praise. His beautiful blue eyes that reminded her of the lakes at Varykino. No more of his terrible puns, no more greasy droid parts littering the bedside table.

She almost didn’t feel herself being lead to one of the couches. The cushions hit the back of her knees and she collapsed onto it bonelessly.

“Milady,” someone said, trying to pull her attention, but her mind was firmly stuck in a endless loop of their last moments together before everything went wrong. Before he had started having those terrible dreams…

_[He looks over his arm resting on the back of the couch and watches her approach, eyes focused the bugle in her nightgown with an adoring smile.]_

_This isn’t happening,_ she tried to tell herself.

Anakin would come back to her. He _always_ came back to her. He’d made his way back to her after countless missions. Quell, Felucia, … Hells, he had even made it out of that bounty hunter’s trap on Vanqor. The bridge of a Star Destroyer had collapsed on top of him, and he still made it out.

_[His eyes light up and he looks happier than she’s ever seen him. “That’s…” he says, lost for words. “That’s wonderful, Padmè.” He rubs soothing circles on her shoulders with his thumbs. “...We’re not going to worry about anything right now. This is a happy moment.”]_

_Oh Gods,_ she sobbed. _He’ll never get to hold our child… He was so excited. We were going to do this together and now I’m alone. What am I going to do without-_

“Milady.”

_[“What do you think of the name Luke?” she asks blissfully. His strong arms are wrapped around her as they lie completely naked in bed, flesh hand splayed across her stomach waiting for the baby to kick. The skin-to-skin contact of his chest to her back is soothing after such a long separation._

_“Luke is a terrible name for a girl,” he teases tiredly, eyes half closed._

_She scoffs. “It’s not going to be a girl. It’s a boy. Call it mother’s intuition.”_

_“No. It’s a girl…_ Call it _my Force sens-_ Wizard… _” he cuts off in amazement when the baby kicks into the center of his palm. “She’s so strong,” he marvels.]_

It was so grossly unfair. Everything they had done had been in the best interest of the Republic. They’d kept their marriage a secret so that he could stay a Jedi and protect people. So that she could serve in the Senate and help bring the war to a peaceful resolution. A thousand times they had chosen duty over one another. A thousand sleepless nights on opposite sides of the Galaxy waiting for the war to end so that they could finally be together.

He’d been born a slave and the moment he had been handed his freedom, dedicated his life to helping others. And this was how the Republic repaid him! With a blaster bolt in the back from his own men, trying to defend a bunch of children!

They were supposed to have forever, but they’d run out of time.

* * *

 

Bail and Mira managed to drag Padmè to the couch before she collapsed. They shared a glance, both uncomfortable and unsure what to do. _What can you do for a woman whose just found out her husband is dead?_ He wondered sadly. There was still a chance that Skywalker would make it out, of course. But he reasoned it was rather unlikely. Skywalker had his share of flaws, but he knew the man would have protected those children with everything he had. If the troopers had made it through, it had been over his corpse.

It was an uncomfortable thought.

Much to both his and Mira’s relief, Dormè rushed in to comfort her. They both stepped back to let the handmaid in. “Milady,” she whispered mournfully, rubbing circles against Padmè’s back as she cried.

Padmè’s grief was palpable in the room.

Beside him, the Mira girl looked about ready to burst into tears herself. He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He couldn’t imagine what the poor girl had been through in the last few hours. Her lip quivered slightly. But then she took a slow, deep breath and set her shoulders back.

_If only we all had that Jedi sense of calm..._

Captain Typho let out a particularly unsubtle cough and gestured the assembled group to into another room. Mira and the boy quietly herded the children out of the room. Bail trailed behind them, snagging Padmè’s vexatious protocol droid and leading him out of the room before he had the chance to disturb her grief. The droid, for once, stayed quiet.

He lingered in the doorway and looked back at where Padmè sat on the couch sobbing. “I’ll have Captain Antilles bring the _Tantive_ around,” he said gently, although he was fairly certain she wouldn’t hear him. “We’ll find somewhere safe and figure out what to do.”

She just sobbed louder.

* * *

 

 _There is no death, there is the Force_.

It was never a platitude Anakin could wrap his head around. That someone would realize they were about to die and be _okay_ with it.

Everytime death had shown up on his doorstep, he had fought it like he did everything else: with alarming ferocity and unyielding determination. Maybe it was from being born a slave; an overwhelming sense of self preservation that he was incapable of shutting off. Maybe he was just stubborn. Whatever it was, he never understood what it meant to “go gently into the Force.”

Until now.

He was about to die. _Correction_. He was about to let himself die.

It was a startlingly calm realization to make. Distantly, he could feel the pain the realization brought with it. He would never see his Angel again. He would never get the change to hold his daughter in his arms (because he _knew_ it was going to be a girl). There were a million strings of his life left untied. He shouldn't be ready to leave...

But it was alright. Because every second of every moment of his entire life had led him to this moment. Every lesson learning how to harness the Force. Every minute he had spent in the training salle with Obi-wan as a kid drilling katas into his brain. He’d used every skill he’d ever learned as a Jedi today to get to this hangar.

Maybe this was the moment someone had seen when they had written the prophecy of the Chosen One down on a piece of spare flimsi?

Maybe they had a vision of this. Of him crouching behind a bunch of tipped over crates next to a Padawan burdened with all of the history of the Jedi Order in a satchel strapped over his shoulder..

And a lone single-seat Jedi Starfighter in the entire hangar that hadn’t been destroyed.

The single largest flaw in his great plan. He hadn’t expected them to destroy the ships. But he knew he should have.

 _There is no death, there is the Force_.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew this was a trap. He could feel the Clone Troopers hiding in the shadows waiting. But it was a trap for one. Not two.

He would see Nell safely into the cockpit and protect the ship until it was out of the hanger. And then…

There were too many for him to take on. Not out in the open like that, and certainly not with his leg. He’d lost so much blood already, he was struggling to stay focused on anything for any length of time. Twice he’d made the wrong turn in the ventilation shafts getting here, and they’d been forced to waste precious time backtracking.

Maybe this was bringing balance: preserving the Jedi Order in the face ultimate destruction… At least he would die for something important. Which, in a way, was all he could have ever asked for.

The sticky cold feeling of the Dark Side tainted everything, a preamble to Palpatine's imminent arrival, but it couldn’t reach the trance-like state he was in now.

Nell looked up at him, crestfallen.

He understood where they went from here

 _Good_ , he thought distantly. _T_ _hat means he's smart. He'll need to be smart if he's going to stay alive_.

Anakin took a deep, calming breath before he spoke. “You're going to find a good place to hide once you get out of here,” he said slowly, holding Nell’s gaze.

“Master…” the boy let out woefully.

Anakin ignored him. “The Outer Rim is a good place to start. Burn your robes, and cut off your braid. That time has passed. Don't trust anyone but your instincts. Keep an eye out for others and once you find them, stick together. The entire history of the Jedi Order is in that bag, and in you. Palpatine is the Sith Lord we've been searching for. Don’t underestimate him like I did. Keep those holocrons as far away from him as you can. You must do everything in your power to protect them, do you understand me?”

“Master Skywalker-”

“Do you understand me?” he repeated.

“...Yes, Master” the boy whispered despondently.

“Good. When I give the word you're going to run for that cockpit and you're going to get the hell off this rock and not look back. I'll cover your escape.”

Anakin looked over the top of the boxes to double check the hangar was open.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

_There is no death, there is the Force._

His hands tightened around the hilt of his saber and he took a deep calming breath. The Force wrapped around him like a cloak and whispered in his ear.

_Now._

He didn’t feel himself stand up, or ignite the blade in his hand. He didn’t feel the dull ache from his wounded leg as he shifted stance.

He gave himself freely to the Force.


End file.
